Aside From Myself

Memories seen in a vanity mirror envisions another woman resembling the reflection of a present moment yet she is still missing. I look for her occasion to occasion when dreams become manipulation. Evaluation of awareness is misconception of placation in a house dizzier than a tunnel inside my neck. Often she watched closely while my insecurity embodied distance.

Zen excuses herself to speak with Tex as I wonder into another space of a sectional rectangle to gaze from the ledge; streets are empty with sky blue light amongst grey concrete ridges. I am not prone to daydreaming however fantasizing is slightly different; he must be a fluffy wild man with a sense of endearing obligation for a woman waiting for him always even if she suffers, what criteria for a romantic novel if I did not feel somewhat shameful for wishing their dismay as an impersonal venture into devotion and intimacy.

"Careful what you wish for..."

Omens are dark clairvoyance outside cemetery gates; his words are spirits drifting from stones. I caught a few loose souls to spare their lonely travels but one escapee listened to their whole conversation.

"What does it feel like..."

"What are you talking about? What does what feel like? You talking about what the stuff feels like once you lose it?"

"Yeah..."

"Feels sort of like a canteen bag made of leather."

"What does that feel like?"

"Well..."

"What does it look like when you place your hands on it?"

"Fingers kind of gentle for it; real sensitive to pressing..."

"What does it feel like?"

"Well if you squeeze it too hard the bag gets real offended..."

"It's soft..."

"Yep I would definitely say that yep it's real soft.....really soft....."

"What else..."

"Stretches a little too but if you clean it up right the marks go away like nothing happened. Just gets softer and softer.....if you work it in real good the skin tightens up again."

"Is that what it is like for your...."

"Nope for my stuff it's not exactly where I want it to be but I just got to keep on trucking...."

"Keep on Truckin!"

"Mouse what the fuck does that mean?"

"I just fed you guys lysergic acid!"

"What the fuck is that?"

"Oh shit..."

This mirror is an architectural perfectionist of exact proportions; this once I am thoroughly satisfied with inventive purpose except I am dissatisfied with me. If I might be a tad smaller around the waist, not so much to cause myself worry or physical pain, these bumps underneath my epidermis elude me, perhaps a tighter sleekness; the rest is unavailable for inspection as two men carry her away. Who was she?

"I cannot believe how small this body appears and what is up with the skin?"

"I was just thinking the same thing."

"I hope he knows I did it for him."

"I did it for him too; I didn't know this was going to happen!"

"Yeah wherever Amber is right now....."

"Wherever Crystal is at....."

"It's ridiculously soft....."

"Look what happens when you put your hand on it!"

"How is it small and soft like that?"

"It does not make logical sense of human anatomy....."

"Suppose we never did....."

"Comrade....."

"Yes....."

"This has only just begun."

"At least they give us breaks to talk to each other."

"We won't have anymore moments after this."

"Nobody will ever understand....."

"It's lunacy of words....."

"If anyone ever understand this....."

"We will adore them for eternity!"